The Skilled Seduction

by Tracy Goodwin

  The realization that she had seen right through him punched him so hard in the gut that he had to lean against the sturdy table for support.

  All of her accusations about him not being able to love anyone, to trust, were absolutely correct. So much so that he felt as if he were as transparent as a pane of glass.

  Tristan’s erratic pulse pounded within his temples. What did he just lose? No, it wasn’t a merely a loss for he had deliberately done this to himself. What had he discarded? Thrown away by refusing to be honest?

  What would have happened if he actually admitted how he truly felt last night or even this evening? What would have happened if he admitted he’d never before felt so intimate with anyone? Victoria wouldn’t have fled from him, of that he was convinced as a large lump formed in his throat.

  Tristan had come close to having the life, the wife and family, that he long since ceased believing was possible. He had been so close to it that he could have touched it. He did touch it, in fact.

  When he had fallen asleep, Victoria was in his arms, she was his then but not any longer. Heavy torrents of regret pummeled his weary conscience at the realization.

  The clouds shifted, bathing him once again in the bluish hue of the moon, illuminating the interior of Victoria’s sanctuary. On this night, Tristan realized what he wanted.

  He wanted Victoria to love him again.

  Hell, he needed it. But it was more than that, wasn’t it? He needed Victoria … her wit, her strength, her wisdom and the luminescence that was her very being.

  She illuminated his dark, dismal life.

  Victoria made him want to be a better man.

  He should have seen it sooner, should have chosen her. It had taken him far too long to reach the realization and now it was too late.

  Or was it?

  Could Victoria truly cease caring for him so quickly and with such finality?

  Tristan reviewed his actions since their intimate encounter. Damn him! Why had he goaded her tonight?

  Clenching his hands into tight fists, he allowed his fingernails to pierce his flesh. The pain was welcome. It reminded him that he was alive. As did the deafening pounding within his ears.

  He must fix things.

  With the flawless translucency of a dazzling summer day, he knew why he must marry Victoria.

  In her lay his salvation.

  How many times had he mocked those who relied on others, those who fell in love and married? Hell, countless times. Yet, here he was craving the very commitment he abhorred.

  Yes, he had wanted to commit to someone once before. But it was the wrong woman and it was for all of the wrong reasons. Once he looked into the deep crevices of his core, once he truly examined his pain and the root of it, the truth was blinding.

  He hadn’t loved Eve.

  Victoria had been correct in her assessment.

  But she knew only half of it, for the instant he caught Eve with his brother, anger seeped into his very essence. Dark and deadly, it sheathed his heart from love, light, anything good and decent.

  The man who now stood in his mirror every morning was a stranger to him. His features distorted with a foolish pride and a pathological need to hold others at bay. This transformation wasn’t because he loved Eve. No, the madness that overcame him was because she had betrayed him. That was the ultimate sin to self-righteous Tristan MacAlistair.

  So the walls had been erected. He barred himself from any future relationships so he would never be wounded again.

  Such was the life he’d constructed for himself. But Tori had been the one exception. She had been a part of his life for so long that she had already touched his heart.

  Like spiders inching across an intricately woven web, a chill crept up his spine at the mere possibility that he could actually love Victoria. Could that be why it nearly killed him to hear Victoria assert that she didn’t love him anymore?

  Tristan raked his hands through his hair, recognizing that to love her would be akin to running into a burning building and he refused to leave himself open to such devastation.

  Not again.

  At least not yet. It was too soon, too dangerous. Instead, he needed to know that she still loved him. It meant more to him than anything else in the world.

  But how?

  Tristan considered his options as he tidied up the remnants of the broken vase, discarding them in a waste pail in the far corner. He then perused the rest of Victoria’s studio in the hopes of discovering more about her.

  Crossing to her cluttered work table, he opened one of the sketchpads strewn about, flipping through the pages. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of his own features staring back at him. Only he looked different. He looked happy, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his lips while his eyes were crisp and free of the haunting sadness that he now found in his own reflection.

  Was this how Victoria saw him?

  Tristan studied the sketch, the urgency of his situation causing his turbulent pulse to surge within his veins.

  He couldn’t lose her.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  A seedling of his strategy took root. Tristan must negotiate the deal of his life. He couldn’t allow Victoria to use the option she discussed with him. No, he must marry her before Sebastian ever discovered the truth and offered her the financial solution she had mentioned.

  Marry Victoria, earn her trust and her love once again. It sounded simple enough though, as Tristan knew from experience, Tori wouldn’t defer to his plan willingly. Not after tonight.

  He must make certain she had no choice in the matter.

  Tristan knew just what to do to persuade her, well aware that once he progressed with his plan, there was no turning back.

  Yes, Victoria would have no choice but to marry him.

  He only hoped that she would forgive him for what he was about to do.

  Chapter 8

  Tristan waited in the library for Colin to finish reading to the twins. As he knew from experience, it would be a long while so he poured himself a tumbler of whiskey, downing the contents in three large gulps. He then poured himself another, well aware that he was about to partake in the most difficult conversation of his life and needed all the strength he could muster.

  Admitting the truth to Colin would be difficult for several reasons, the first on that long list being that Tristan had been hard on Colin when he caught him kissing Eve on that fateful evening, what now felt like a lifetime ago. Tristan had been unyielding, unforgiving, and downright sanctimonious.

  Tonight Tristan must admit that his own actions towards Victoria were far worse than Colin’s had ever been towards Eve. As if that weren’t bad enough, Tristan now had to acknowledge that his indiscretion not only threatened to destroy his own future but Victoria’s future, as well.

  Shortly after the clock struck nine, Tristan heard footsteps echoing in the hallway outside the open door. After taking another fortifying gulp, Tristan poured a second tumbler for his brother.

  “A footman delivered your message,” Colin announced as he entered the room.

  “Close the door behind you,” Tristan offered the tumbler of amber liquid to his brother. “And drink this. You will need it.”

  Colin followed his brother’s instructions then demanded, “What the hell did you do to Victoria?”

  “Nothing like getting to the heart of the matter, brother dear,” Tristan drawled in a feeble attempt at alleviating some of the tension that already hovered in the room.

  His brother’s intense glower told Tristan that Colin remained undeterred. Never in his life did Tristan suspect that honesty would be so difficult to speak. He had once been honest, brutally so. It had been second nature to him. He had changed so much over the course of two years. Perhaps this was why his parents harbored so many secrets? To do so was far easier than admitting the truth.

  “When I left you alone with Victoria it was because I suspected that you had finally realized your true feelings
for her.” Colin raked Tristan with his cool, indigo eyes. “Please tell me that I didn’t underestimate you.”

  “I never planned for any of this to happen, Colin. I swear I tried to stop it.”

  “Damn it,” Colin slammed his glass onto the table, spilling half its contents onto the polished mahogany finish. “What the hell did you do?”

  “I compromised her,” Tristan admitted at last.

  His brother clenched his hands together so tightly that his knuckles cracked. “I assume that we’re not talking about a mere kiss, are we?”

  Tristan shook his head in response.

  “You selfish—”

  “It wasn’t something I planned.” Tristan’s excuse sounded pathetic even to his own ears. “We were upset about Gwen, and turned to each other for comfort.”

  “I thought that you’d come to your senses and realized how remarkable she is.” Colin took another gulp from his glass. “Why in God’s name are you confiding in me, of all people?”

  Proceeding with caution in an attempt not to alienate a possible ally, Tristan explained, “Victoria is being stubborn, refusing to even consider marrying me, and I need you to help her see reason.”

  “Why won’t she consider the option of marriage?”

  “Because I said something I shouldn’t have.” Tristan wished he could leave it there but he knew his brother would demand details. “I said I would marry her, mind you, but I – I admitted that I didn’t love her and that I never would. It was something I said in my sleep. I never meant for—”

  “Talking in your sleep? I thought you’d outgrown that phase when you were a child,” Colin closed his eyes, taking time to inhale a deep breath before tackling the issue at hand. “Please, let me see if I understand correctly. You compromised Victoria, the same woman who has adored you for years might I add. You then told her you’d never love her and that you would marry her only because you had no other choice but to do so?”

  “I didn’t use that exact phrasing,” Tristan said, turning away from his brother and placing his glass on top of the sideboard with a faint clink. “But, what I did say was reprehensible and I regret hurting her feelings.”

  A thick silence engulfed the room as Tristan scrutinized his reflection in the mirror above the sideboard. The man before him appeared familiar, possessed an air of respectability, yet it was a façade.

  He was a fraud.

  The knowledge caused Tristan to avert his eyes from his reflection because even he was sickened by the man he’d become.

  “I was wrong to have said it, Colin,” he admitted with more emotion than he had planned.

  “She loves you, Tristan!” Colin glared at him. “How could you say such a thing to her? Or worse yet, treat her like a common whore?”

  Tristan flinched. “Victoria is no whore.” This time he did look at his reflection. A stranger stared back at him. Sure he appeared similar to the man he had been just a few years prior, with the exception of a few additional lines around his eyes but he was different now.

  Indeed, he’d transformed into a selfish bastard.

  His night with Victoria had been precipitated by his own desperation to join with her, his own burning need to take possession of her. It had been years in the making, since their first kiss.

  True enough, she had tried everything to make Tristan see her as his equal. Hell, one could argue that her own persistence in pursuing him all but willed last night into existence. But, truth be told, he hadn’t required much encouragement.

  “Victoria is no whore,” he repeated, this time to his reflection. “She is spectacular. She is intelligent, witty and fiercely independent. Victoria is precisely the woman I should fall in love with.”

  Tristan could feel his brother’s eyes boring into his back. When he acknowledged Colin, his brother continued to study him through narrowed eyes. So much so that he felt like one of Dr. Frankenstein’s bloody experiments.

  At last, Colin broke the silence. “I never said she is a whore. I said you treated her like one.”

  “Damn it, Colin, no more!” This time it was Tristan who pounded his fist against the sideboard. He then flattened his palms against the smooth wood. His tone, low and dangerous, was testament that on this he brooked no argument. “Say what you will about me but do not utter one more word about Victoria’s virtue.”

  Thick silence, like a heavy morning fog, engulfed the room and Tristan suddenly wished that he hadn’t silenced his brother. Wasn’t Colin’s tirade better than this damned false calm?

  “I know I was wrong and I am sorry, Colin,” Tristan crossed the room, taking a seat on the sofa across from his brother’s. The two pieces of furniture were each the same color and length, mirror images of each other with a mahogany coffee table separating them. But, as Tristan observed his brother, he realized that while the furnishings were the same, the men sitting upon them were polar opposites.

  Colin was a good man, deep down inside. He had a large heart and hung it on his sleeve for his wife. Did Tristan even have a heart anymore, or did it just shrivel up from lack of use?

  No, he did use it. He loved his sister, his niece and nephew. Yet, he’d remained distant until the night of Gwen’s brush with death. Fear still seized Tristan’s heart in a vise grip whenever he contemplated those events.

  Almost losing her nearly destroyed him. Then, like an angel sent from the heavens, Victoria came to him, saving him from himself.

  When Tristan remembered the events of that evening, he now recognized the affection that drove Victoria’s actions. Each time she stroked his arm in Gwen’s room and when she humbled herself in his suite, undressing in front of him.

  Damn him to hell, he should have seen it then. The way she looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes, the way her gaze pierced his very soul. It was love and he’d discarded it, as if it didn’t matter when it should have meant the world to him.

  Her love now meant everything to him.

  Was it truly too late?

  Since he couldn’t stomach the alternative, Tristan was left with no choice but to believe there was a chance that Victoria would once again care for him. Was he being much too optimistic for his own good? As Tristan could personally attest, he was no optimist – far from it, as a matter of fact. But he held out hope that she was simply salvaging her pride, protecting her wounded heart, like he had done for years.

  “This wasn’t our first encounter, Colin,” Tristan admitted, quickly adding, “we kissed twice before, once on the day of your wedding to Eve. I have thought about her and that damned kiss for years, until I thought I was going stark raving mad. I kissed her again, hoping that the attraction had been in my imagination though I was dead wrong.”

  Colin inhaled deeply, as if it took all the strength in the world for him to remain silent while Tristan continued.

  “I think I have been evading my attraction to Victoria since the day of your wedding, even more than I have been in seclusion to avoid you and your wife.”

  Tristan’s eyes locked with his brother’s. “It is time for me to stop running, Colin. I want to marry her but Victoria claims that she no longer loves me.”

  His brother sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, clenching and unclenching his hands into tight fists. He was itching to punch him, Tristan realized, and he half wished Colin would do it. After all, it was the least he deserved.

  Bile rose in his throat as he realized that Colin was correct about one thing. Tristan had treated Victoria like a common whore. Hell, he hadn’t even used the bed. In spite of it, she didn’t run until he’d said those insensitive words.

  “I believe she wants to marry me but that her pride is injured and, in response, she is refusing me. I understand her reasoning more than most, as you are well aware.” Tristan reminded his brother with an arched brow.

  “If you were any other man I would have called you out by now,” Colin glared at his brother as he stood, crossing the room then pouring another tumbler.

&n
bsp; “What would you like to do, challenge me to pistols at dawn?” Tristan raked his hands through his hair. “You owe me, for God’s sake. I caught you kissing my betrothed, remember?”

  Colin grabbed the decanter and headed back towards Tristan. “At least I didn’t have a ruinous romp with her,” he said, shoving the crystal decanter of amber liquid in his brother’s direction.

  It was a low blow but it was also the truth. So much so that Tristan didn’t respond, choosing instead to take a large gulp from his glass, then another, followed by another. He allowed the fine liquor to burn a path down his throat, readily accepting the numbness it offered.

  Once he had drained his glass, Tristan reached for the decanter, refilling his tumbler. He then studied its contents, swooshing the amber liquid within its crystal confines. “You owe me for so much more than that, Colin. Speaking to Tori on my behalf is the only thing I have ever asked of you – you know it as well as I do.”

  His brother’s tension eased, albeit slightly, in silent acknowledgment.

  “I can apply for a special license and we can marry in London. No one needs to know the intimate details and Victoria’s reputation can remain intact.”

  “Why should I convince Victoria to marry you?” Colin lifted his glass to his lips, taking a hefty swig. “Why the hell shouldn’t I advise Victoria to flee as far and as fast as she can?”

  “Because you have offered to help me, several times in fact, since your wedding and I am accepting your offer at long last. And because I have thought of Victoria every bloody day and night since the day of your wedding. I’ve avoided her in a futile effort to protect my heart and hers, but she refused to relent, instead designing an intricate ruse to make me jealous – to make me want her.

  Tristan took another sip in a desperate hope that the alcohol would quench his desperate desire to marry Victoria. “Tori’s attempts were successful. So much so that she made me realize how much I need her.”

  Colin’s eyes locked with Tristan’s. “There are a dozen men who want the same thing and they’d treat her with a hell of a lot more respect than you have.”